


A song of chapped lips and loving glares

by Ellstra



Category: Fangirl - Rainbow Rowell, Simon Snow series - Gemma T. Leslie
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff, M/M, Reading Aloud, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-05
Updated: 2015-10-05
Packaged: 2018-04-25 00:36:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4939939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ellstra/pseuds/Ellstra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Students are required to assist a roommate who has fallen ill in any way possible that does not interfere with their duties to ensure said roommate’s quick recovery.</i><br/>It wasn't enough to have an annoying roommate, now he had to take care of him as well. Simon could swear he was working some magic on him because well, he was so desperate to help Baz.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A song of chapped lips and loving glares

**Author's Note:**

> Carry On comes out tomorrow. Oh gods. I can't.

_Students are required to assist a roommate who has fallen ill in any way possible that does not interfere with their duties to ensure said roommate’s quick recovery._

 “You’re an asshole,” Simon informed Baz. It was a habit, a routine that calmed him down. It lost some of its beauty now when Baz didn’t respond with a witty remark, he didn’t even roll his eyes.

“It’s not my fault I spent a whole night in a damp, cold forest. It was actually more of your fault.” Baz croaked after some time. He was lying in his bed, tucked under a thick duvet so thoroughly he looked more like a Mexican tortilla with a mope of hair.

“I was there too. And I’m not sick.” Simon glared at Baz over his shoulder to intensify his annoyance. “So you suck.”

“I still have to discover the spell you’re using on me that prevents me from killing you.” Baz huffed.

“I’m not casting it, believe me. But I guess someone did do that to both of us. For some reason they think we need to annoy each other for as long as possible.” Simon smiled into his Chemistry homework. He did find Baz excruciatingly annoying and taking care of a sick him was even worse than enduring a healthy him. But there was a certain level of longing in his thoughts whenever he and Baz’s rejoinders were separated (not he and Baz, mind you. Just Baz’s words. Simon couldn’t care for the rest of Baz. Like his stormy eyes. Or his demonic hipbones.)

“I hate you,” Baz mused after a while of silence. It wasn’t natural for them to be so quiet. They spoke to each other very often; seeking an escape from the dullness of homework, asking questions, arguing about music. They both felt uncomfortable when silence stretched for too long. They never even considered enjoying each other’s presence an option; it was a certainty in their life they relied on to remain.

“Uh-huh,” Simon hummed. He was close to finding a solution to the last problem. He was biting the end of a pencil as he furrowed his brow.

“I hate it when you bite your pencils.” Baz continued.

Simon pulled it from his mouth to give a try to a couple of numbers. He checked his result with what was supposed to be the right answer and he sighed in frustration.

“Pay attention to me.” Baz called again. “You’re supposed to tend to me.”

“When it doesn’t interfere with my schoolwork,” Simon corrected him. And tried a different solution.

“You never do homework,” Baz pointed out, affronted.

“You never see me do homework,” Simon replied, “that doesn’t mean I don’t do it.”

“Well I see you now.”

“Shut up for five seconds, could you?”

Finally the numbers matched and Simon smiled at his work. He put it into his bag and threw some used pieces of paper into the bin. Simon was very thorough when using papers. He would write in various colours in more layers so that he doesn’t use too much.

"You never have homework in the lesson," Baz pointed out. 

"Leave it, would you?" Simon rolled his eyes and stood up. "What do you want, you miserable heap of bad temper?"

"I don't know," Baz replied truthfully. His grey eyes, usually bright and shining stared at Simon without expression.

"That's why you've annoyed me for so long? You don't even know what you want?" Simon sighed. 

"No. Most of my fun usually revolves around making you miserable or annoyed and I'm indisposed right now." Baz complained. 

"Aww, you poor soul," Simon cooed, "move over."

"Why?" Baz growled, "I've created a complicated heat-maintaining cocoon for myself and I intend to stay inside it forever."

"Do you have a fever?" Simon asked. Before he got any response, he sat down on the edge of the bed and reached for Baz's forehead. "You do, you prat."

"It's really hot when you worry so much about me you insult me. I feel very special," Baz grinned and coughed a little.

"I don't..." Simon started but his voice trailed off. He did care for Baz (shit) and he did curse more than usual which probably did make Baz special. Oh well... "I don't look hot."

"You have no idea." Baz sighed dreamily. "You're The Hot Snow."

"Well you feel hot," Simon pointed out. He only then realised his hand was still resting on Baz's brow. He didn't feel like pulling away. "I'm gonna try to make you feel better. You're getting crazy."

"And how exactly are you gonna do it? Suck it away with your hand?” Baz sneered and closed his eyes for a while.

“I was thinking painkillers but if magic’s what you want…” Simon brushed Baz’s hair off his face.

“You’re not supposed to use magic to cure me,” Baz warned him, “I’d like to deal with this myself, thank you very much.”

“But why does everyone insist on doing this the old-fashioned way? We use magic to turn the lights off when we’re too lazy to get out of bed.” Simon objected.

“To engage our immunity, you goof,” Baz whispered, “I’d appreciate some painkillers though.”

“Wait a sec,” Simon stood up promptly and walked over to his cabinet. He did have quite a few of these because he got slight migraines quite often. He didn’t know how legal they were since you couldn’t buy them at Watford but well, who cared? They were just as much magic as anything else. He glanced over his collection of cups and mugs and found them all dirty. Well.

He took one, washed it in the sink and filled it with tepid water. He walked over to Baz and sat back down on his bed. He smirked.

“You’ve made space for me.”

“Shut up,” Baz growled. Simon’s smile grew wider and he handed Baz the pill. The sick boy considered his chances before he sat up reluctantly and accepted it along with the cup of water. He gulped them down with pained expression.

“You should keep your neck warm,” Simon informed him.

“Well I was trying but then you forced me to leave my cocoon.”

“I was thinking with a scarf,” Simon raised an eyebrow.

“A vampire with a scarf, how lame is that?” Baz rolled his eyes and gave the cup back to Simon. “Thanks.”

“It’s just as lame as humans with scarves which is not at all when you’re sick,” Simon muttered. “You’re so obsessed with being cool you never do anything that makes sense.”

“One of us has to be cool,” Baz pointed out.

“Well it’s not you right now, with all this mess around you, so don’t worry,” Simon pointed to the heap of used tissues scattered beside Baz’s bed. He stood up again, set his cup to the others and brought his bin to the mess.

“You shouldn’t do that. That’s where all the gems are,” Baz reached out to stop his roommate. His burning hand landed on Simon’s shoulder and for a while they just stared at each other. Simon was sure that the reason why Baz’s touch never felt like this was because his hands were always so cold and now he was burning.

"Exactly, that’s why I'm not letting it stay in my room," Simon picked the pile up and put it into the overflowing bin. 

"I never hoped to force you to take your trash out," Baz said and sank down under the covers.

"Miracles do happen," Simon snickered and stood up. "You want something?"

"Some tea would be nice," Baz mumbled from underneath his duvet.

"Nice? I didn't think you knew the word existed," Simon laughed. He picked up the mug he had given Baz before and a jar with teabags.

"Please."

"I'll be right back," Simon promised and headed out. Baz sighed and rested his head against the wall. Being sick was no way a funny ride but having Simon run around trying to get him stuff and making him feel better was a nice feeling. A warm, fuzzy feeling Baz rarely felt before.

Simon took the trash out, balancing the mug and box with his tea in one hand. He dropped the bag into the big containers outside the door and rushed back into the fortress. It was still very cold outside even if you were dressed properly. Simon wiped his shoes against the mat to get rid of the snow that got stuck to his shoes. (Thank gods he weren’t wearing his slippers, that would be super annoying.)

He ran all the way back to the boys’ dorm to heat his frozen body up. Great, now he’s probably going to catch the cold from Baz. Simon reached the kitchenette on their floor and poured some water into the kettle. Sometimes, he’d make it boil the old-fashioned way and watch it as it bubbled and steamed and made noises that were angrier and angrier until it started squeaking. But not today when Baz was waiting for him. It was bubbling almost instantly after Simon pointed his wand at it and whispered the enchantment. It was a silly one but Baz taught him that many years ago and Simon had to admit it was neat and probably more effective than the one he’d been using before.

He borrowed a tray and some milk and honey from the cupboard above his head. He usually didn’t do it because you had to register all the dishes you took and it would annoy the living hell out of you if you didn’t give it back in time. Simon couldn’t think of anyone lazier than himself when it came to washing dishes and putting them where they belong. But he didn’t want to wait for the tea to infuse and put the milk and honey in it afterwards. Maybe if Baz gets better soon, Simon might get him to return it…

Carrying the tray and the trash bin at the same time seemed too difficult so Simon lifted it with magic, hoping he won’t lose concentration. He made his way to the room.

Baz was half-sitting, half-lying against the wall with his eyes closed. He looked oddly, eerily quiet and still. He was even paler than usual and his lips were partly open, probably to allow him to breathe. Simon felt an odd mixture of worry and pride at seeing him like this. They must have made a lot of progress when Baz let him see this ashy shell of himself.

Simon let the bin descend onto the ground where it had been and caught the tray into his hands. Baz had opened his eyes and now he was watching his roommate with curiosity.

“You borrowed the dishes,” he pointed out. As if the fact Simon had made him a cup of tea wasn’t odd. As if the strangest deviation from normal was Simon borrowing the dishes.

“Yeah,” Simon shrugged. He placed the tray on Baz’s bedside table. Always so neat and tidy, with abundance of space. It was annoying but also so thrilling. Simon secretly loved Baz’s pedantic insistence on keeping everything in order.

“Wow, what comes next, are you going to tidy your desk up?” Baz sneered. He moved a little to the wall and made space for Simon again.

“No. Don’t worry, you’re the sick one here,” Simon assured him. He watched Baz’s bed awkwardly before he took his shoes off and just climbed into it. There was nothing wrong with cuddling your roommate when they’re sick and ask you for it. Besides, they weren’t cuddling. They were just sitting in the same bed. Platonic. Normal. Simple.

“I love your conviction that you’re sane,” Baz mumbled. He closed his eyes again. They weren’t touching yet but they both knew there wasn’t much space left between them. Baz’s shivering arm was leaning against Simon’s and the only thing separating them was the blanket Baz had wrapped around himself again.

“I love your conviction that you are qualified to say otherwise,” Simon replied with a smile. “You still sure you don’t want the scarf? Or a sweater. Anything.”

“Take the bag out of my tea. It’s already darker than my soul,” Baz snickered.

“You’re overestimating your powers,” Simon assured him but turned away from Baz to get the tea.

“Was that a Star Wars reference?” Baz asked.

“Was it? I’ve never seen Star Wars,” Simon shrugged and pulled the tray on his knees. He took the bag out of the cup and turned to Baz to ask him how much honey or milk he’d want when he spotted the other boy’s look of utter disbelief.

“You’ve never seen Star Wars?” Baz gasped.

“No. I’m not really a fan of science fiction,” Simon explained, “do you want milk and honey?”

“I can’t believe I’ve never figured out what was wrong with you. Well, at least I know now,” Baz snorted, “both.”

“Chill, it’s not like you’ve read or seen Game of Thrones,” Simon replied and put both the sweeteners into Baz’s tea. “Here you go.”

“Because it’s just about murder and sex,” Baz muttered, “thanks.”

Their fingers touched as Simon handed Baz the cup. It was no accident even though they both told themselves they just pictured the sparks in the other’s eyes.

“It’s not,” Simon protested.

“Prove it,” Baz took a sip of his tea and closed his eyes for a while. Simon watched him with worry.

“What’s wrong?”

“Is this what people feel like when they’re the submissive partner in a BDSM relationship?” Baz whispered as he cradled the cup in both hands. Simon thought it must burn but he didn’t comment on it.

“What?”

“It’s awfully painful to swallow but it feels absolutely great to get warmed up from inside by the hotness,” Baz explained.

“You’re probably the only person who would compare drinking tea to getting spanked and make it look like a logical statement,” Simon rolled his eyes but he laughed. Baz could feel the vibrations against his side.

“Of course I am,” he purred, “you’re probably the only person to admit that.”

“Of course I am,” Simon smirked. He stood up with no explanation and Baz hissed with the sudden loss of heat. “I’m coming back to bed, love, don’t worry.”

“Oh you are,” Baz mumbled, “you wouldn’t miss it.”

Simon made a beeline for his stash of books and fished through it for some time. Finally he pulled out a blue book with rumpled edges that looked like it would keep opening if you let it lie freely.

“Do you want something then? Because when I curl up with a book, I’m not going to move.” Simon asked, standing in the middle of the room.

“Just come here already. My side is freezing off,” Baz huffed.

“Always so needy,” Simon smiled and he sat back where he was.

“Always so cocky,” Baz deadpanned.

“You’d probably be warmer if we were both under the blanket,” Simon proposed shyly and flushed.

“Smooth,” Baz grinned but he moved a little, pulled the blanket from under himself and lifted it for Simon to move closer to him.

“Shut up,” Simon tucked the duvet under himself so that they wouldn’t be losing any heat.

“Is that A Game of Thrones?” Baz took the book from Simon’s hand.

“Yeah,”

“Are you going to read it to me?”

“Yeah,” Simon murmured, “I mean, if you want to.”

“Sure,” Baz grinned, “it’s not like I have anything else to do.”

“And if you did?” Simon took the book back and pressed it against his chest.

“What if I did what?”

“Have anything else to do.”

“I’d make time to listen to your pathetic recitation skills, don’t worry, Snow,” Baz assured him and took a sip of his tea. “Maybe you read as well as you make tea, what do I know?”

“Are you mocking me?” Simon raised an eyebrow. “Because it’s not going to work. I never thought I was good at making tea.”

“I’m not mocking you. Just this once, I’m not.” Baz promised. “You remembered I take honey too. You stirred it properly.”

“Oh… Thanks, I guess,” Simon didn’t know what to say. Baz was definitely not thinking straight at the moment – he would never admit Simon did anything right.

“So, get on with it,” Baz encouraged him and Simon opened the ragged copy on his lap.

_“We should start back,” Gared urged as the woods began to grow dark around them. “The wildlings are dead.”_

Simon didn’t get to finish the prologue before Baz laid his head on Snow’s shoulder. His face burnt hot and Simon shuddered before he realised Baz didn’t look all that bad. It’s not like his shoulder was a thermometer. It’s just that Baz was always _so cold_ and now he was so hot, that’s all. He wasn’t going to die in Simon’s arms.

Baz nuzzled up against Simon’s neck and his eyes followed the text with Simon’s without really seeing the words. He just watched Simon’s fingers hold the thick book and keeping it from closing, he felt the vibrations of Simon’s voice and he smelled the book and something he was so used to smelling he barely noticed it anymore.

Baz sneered when Jon Snow was introduced and he bent in a fit of cough that interrupted the reading.

“That’s for making fun of me,” Simon rubbed soothing circles into Baz’s back as the sick boy tried to ease his breathing.

“You hexed me?” Baz tried to inhale through his nose, which proved impossible.

“No,” Simon reached for the box of tissues on Baz’s nightstand.

“I hate you,” Baz wheezed and accepted the tissues.

“I know,” Simon said fondly as Baz sat up properly to blow his nose. Simon regretted losing the contact. “I hate you too.”

“You’re such a sap,” Baz muttered and folded the used tissue and threw it on the floor.

“Shut up,”

“Okay,” Baz curled himself at Simon’s side again, more sprawled over the latter than before. Simon didn’t complain.

_Bran kept his pony well in hand, and did not look away. His father took off the man’s head with a single sure stroke._

“I forgot monsters when I said what this was about,” Baz pointed out.

“There was no sex yet,” Simon warned him.

“True,” Baz took a sip of his tea, “go on.”

Baz was basically lying on top of Simon by the end of the second chapter.

He fell asleep through the fourth one.

Simon set the book aside, reached for the cup still in Baz’s hands and laid it on the bedside table. Watching Baz sleep peacefully was calming and exhilarating at the same time. Simon didn’t remember ever seeing Baz sleep – the guy probably needed less sleep or slept in other parts of the day.

He noticed Baz was drooling on his shirt. He was totally going to pay for this. Absolutely. But he was also very cute, resting on Simon’s chest like a baby. Damn, Simon had a problem.

Being the Chosen One sucked enough. Being terrible at it was probably even worse – everybody knew that basically anyone would be better at being the saviour. Simon was clumsy and kept messing things up. Even though he meant well, he was an idiot. Baz was so much better, smoother, more elegant, always had been. Simon wondered if that was why they were supposed to be looking out for each other. Maybe they did complement one another – Simon was useless but determined, Baz was brilliant but with dubious loyalty.

Simon realised how much he relied on Baz’s loyalty to himself. Even when they were through their worst phases, Simon never believed Baz would really hurt him. It was a game, a test when they tried to figure each other out. Simon came to the conclusion that however twisted it seemed, he desperately needed Baz by his side. If letting him drool on Simon’s chest was the price for keeping him, Simon was more than willing to get napkins ready.

…

There was a knock on the door some time later. Simon woke up from his thoughts, checked if Baz was still sound asleep and considered pretending he wasn’t there when the door opened and Penelope stormed inside.

“Simon where the hell-“ she started but her voice died on her lips when she saw Simon gesturing at her. She closed the door behind herself and walked to the bed quietly. It was a little redundant after she spoke so loud but Baz didn’t wake up.

“What’s going on?” she mouthed when she sat down at Baz’s chair.

“He’s sick. I’m taking care of him,” Simon whispered. He wished he pretended to be asleep as well. Penelope wasn’t likely to spread rumours and at least he’d be spared this conversation.

“By cuddling him,” Penelope took in the whole picture of the scene in front of her. It wasn’t shocking in the true sense of the word – she could see the look in Baz’s eyes and she had noticed the twitches in Simon when he broke up with Agatha. Baz was so _obvious_ she couldn’t believe there weren’t rumours about him being in love with Simon. All the teasing about Agatha, all the jokes… those were Baz’s desperate attempts at getting Simon’s attention. And now – well, obviously the best way to make Simon Snow notice you is to play on his protective, nurturing needs. _Always the mother hen_.

“He was cold,” Simon replied defensively.

“Alright,” Penelope raised her hands in defeat. “I just wanted to see if you were okay since I didn’t see you during lunch.”

“Thanks,” Simon smiled.

“Sure thing,” Penelope nodded and stood up, “tell him I say hi.”

“I will,” Simon promised when she left the room.

Gods, he was hungry.

…

Baz stirred about an hour later. By that time, Simon had picked up the book again and browsed through it, reading his favourite parts. He was glad Baz wasn’t lying on his arm as he wouldn’t be able to move it. He knew that from personal experience and it was not a pleasant one.

Baz raised his head and his eyes met Simon’s. They didn’t flinch; as if sleeping wrapped around each another was a normal thing to them. Baz realised he wished to wake up to Simon’s smile more often.

“Hey, Sleeping Beauty,” Simon whispered. Baz sat up and stretched.

“Hey, Prince Charming,” Baz mumbled back. He was hoarse and talking obviously hurt him. Yet he couldn’t stop himself from making that remark.

“You couldn’t keep your mouth shut if your life depended on it,” Simon teased. “How are you feeling?”

“Exhausted, in tremendous pain and on the verge of dying,” Baz replied and lay back down. He pressed against Simon’s side.

“That’s the common man cold. The most treacherous of afflictions,” Simon laughed, placed the book on the floor and lay down too. His back was sore from being so long in a position between sitting and lying but he didn’t complain.

“You have no idea,” Baz nodded.

“I guess I’ll find out really soon,” Simon pointed out.

“Why?”

“Well, cuddling a sick person is not exactly advisable.”

They watched each other warily. Suddenly, they were aware of how close they were, of the heat they shared. Simon watched Baz swallow and wince at the pain it caused him.

“You know what else is not advisable to do with a sick person?” Simon whispered. They rolled on their sides to see each other’s faces properly.

“That’s downright life-threatening and hazardous,” Baz replied and his eyelids fluttered. “If you’re thinking the same thing.”

Simon leant forward and kissed Baz.

It was in no way like he had imagined it. (He had imagined it. Guilty.) Baz’s lips were chapped, hot and dry. He wished to lick them just to give them some nutrition. It wasn’t a nice kiss, not even a memorable one. But then Baz’s hand found his hip and anchored him permanently.

Baz wasn’t surprised by the kiss. He was completely, utterly dumbfounded and perplexed. His brain had taken a break. He had dreamed of getting Simon to his bed so many times he couldn’t believe it was actually happening. Part of him was convinced he was hallucinating. He reached for Simon’s hip to steady himself.

“I should have done this ages ago,” Simon whispered when they parted. Baz was too busy catching his breath. They rested their foreheads one against the other and closed their eyes.

“I would have fallen ill sooner if I knew it would earn me a get better kiss,” Baz pointed out.

“I don’t think it would earn you anything,” Simon said, “I’ve only now mustered enough courage. I might still get a heart-attack.”

“I can feel it,” Baz mumbled. “Also you’re hungry.”

“Yeah,” Simon agreed.

“You should go get something to eat,” Baz looked at Simon again, “I promise I won’t run away.”

“I’m afraid I might,” Simon admitted.

“I won’t let you, you idiot. Not now. I’ll make you crazy with desire when I’m healthy again. You’ve never even imagined what sexual frustration feels like.”

“You’re such a show-off,” Simon disentangled himself from the hug.

“I already miss you,” Baz wheezed and pulled the cover close.

“You’re such a sap,” Simon answered and kissed Baz on the forehead before he put his shoes on.

“I hate you.”

“I know.”

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> 'The Hot Snow' is a reference to a novel by Boris Polevoy. I just couldn't resist.


End file.
